


I See Another Day Go By

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not a lot of dialogue, Pining, kind of on both counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor wants everything he just can't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Another Day Go By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzy/gifts).



> Izzy sent me a message. It read as follows: "yOO if ur still open for fic u should write like. a short canon-era pining!victor fic bc i love my gay son."
> 
> Title from "No Way to Stop It" from 'The Sound of Music'.

In the days of their youth, Henry came to Victor’s house daily. This was no exaggeration - every day, around eight in the morning, if he had not spent the night previous with Victor, Henry would appear on the front steps of the Frankenstein household. In this way, they became close friends; though they spent time with Elizabeth every day, as well, there is something in childhood, Victor believed, that a person of their particular time and environment could only have shared with one of their own gender. Elizabeth was their companion, and they loved her dearly; together, however, Henry and Victor bonded in a way that Victor never had with Elizabeth.

It was only later, as he grew older, that Victor realized that the case was not that he simply had a closer bond to Henry than to Elizabeth. The case was, in fact, that he loved Henry in a different capacity. Elizabeth was a cousin to him, or a sister, closely bound; there was, he discovered, no romantic inclination. Therein lay the problem; while he may not have carried any romantic inclination towards Elizabeth, what he came to discover was that he did, in fact, carry such inclinations towards Clerval.

It took Victor a great deal of time to discover what romantic desire truly was. He had been expected to love and marry Elizabeth; it seemed to be his mother’s only wish, as of late, that he declared an intention towards the woman whom he had come to think of as a sister. Victor found himself struggling with the concept with increasing difficulty as time passed. Elizabeth never pushed him towards an end in any way; she seemed to understand, even before Victor did, that they were not a suitable match for one another. However, it was not Elizabeth, nor his relationship with her, that caused Victor to figuratively open his eyes and see the light; it was, indeed, Henry himself.

As previously stated, Henry arrived at Victor’s home every day, early in the morning, to partake in whatever activity that day may bring. Together, they would complete their studies, they would attempt to make meals, they would read, they would hike. In their childhood, Henry would declare himself to be Victor’s savior, to be his knight in shining armor, and he would rush upon him and rescue his dear friend. In their adulthood, Henry still announced his intentions, a grin on his face all the while, and saved Victor from himself. Regardless of what they did, they passed their time together, always. The two were inseparable, and Victor assumed to love him like a brother.

When it happened, Victor remembered, it was a Tuesday. There was nothing special about that day, at all; as usual, Henry arrived at eight o’clock, gay and smiling as he always was. Having no particular plans for that day, the two of them took to Victor's bedroom, along with Elizabeth, and Victor's younger siblings, Ernest and William, who often sought to tag along with their older brother in his doings. Henry had been reading poetry, and he called Victor over to read a stanza which he had found particularly intriguing. Victor had leaned over Henry’s shoulder to read the passage, and Henry had pointed to the lines with a long, freckled finger, and Victor was stunned by the force of his revelation. He had jerked back, stupefied by his sudden awareness, and Henry had frowned up at him, his brow creased by concern. Victor had been lost to him ever since.

Following this event, Victor had - much to his internal distress - been madly in love with Henry. No; amend that statement: he has always been madly in love with Clerval, but he had only just realized the fact of it. Whenever Henry came to his home, Victor found himself to be a man possessed. Every glance of Henry’s towards him, when their eyes would meet, was like a shot to his chest, and Victor was simultaneously weakened and envigorated. Henry acted in much the same way as he had before the incident of revelation; of course he did, as he had no idea of Victor’s new plague. He still clasped Victor’s hands in his. He still asked Victor to braid his hair. He still spent night after night in Victor’s bed, turned onto his right side, Victor onto his left, speaking to each other in hushed tones in the darkness until they fell asleep.

Henry’s touch was exhilarating to Victor, and he took great pains not to let Henry recognize this gnawing desire which had been awoken in him. He strove to ensure that their friendship remained as it always was; he valued Clerval far too much to lose him, on any grounds, and so he hid his passions from his beloved. Henry was so dear to him, to his family; he was as though a brother to himself, to Elizabeth, to his younger siblings, and he could not bear to see him part from them. He loved him too deeply for that.

“Victor,” Henry called, and Victor withdrew from his own mind, attempting, desperately and in vain, to free himself of the chains of his pining. “Come read this passage, won’t you? I find the stanza charming, I think you might appreciate it.”

Victor approached, and leaned over Henry’s shoulder. Henry pushed his long curls of hair out of the way and pointed, again, with that long, freckled finger. Victor felt the strongest, strangest urge to kiss him, just to do it, to commit the act right then and there, but he refrained. He held himself back, and instead watched from afar, as had become his hobby of the past two years, and as would continue to be so for the foreseeable future.

“Victor?” Henry asked, his tone troubled. Victor turned to him, and was wounded by their closeness. Their very proximity damaged him to the core. “Is something ailing you?”

Victor saw his opportunity to confess all, and he hesitated; he weighed his options; he thought on his answer; and, in the end, he shook his head. “Nothing is ailing me, my friend. What passage were you speaking of?”

Clerval, who always understood human nature far better than most of their peers, seemed to know of Victor’s lie, and his continuing deflections, and still he allowed them. Henry spent a great deal of time allowing Victor to skim past him; he preferred this to delving too deeply, lest he fall even further in love with a man he would never be allowed to claim as his. Shaking himself, he pointed out the passage, as he had originally intended, and Victor returned his attention to the words on the page, and they continued on in ignorance of one another.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
